


We Might Fall

by BulletTimeScully



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletTimeScully/pseuds/BulletTimeScully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In our darkest hour... that's when we realize what truly matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Might Fall

  
_Now that we are older_

_I remember youth_

_Now that we are close to death_

_And close to finding truth_

_We might fall…_

~ "We Might Fall," Ryan Star

~*~*~**~*~*~

It was freezing on the day he almost died.

To this day, he says he doesn't remember much of what happened.

But Carol does.

And more than anything, she remembers the cold.

Not the literal cold, but the heart-stopping cold that flashed through the very marrow of her soul as Rick and T dragged an unconscious Daryl into the closest cell and laid him gently on the bottom bunk. He was soaking wet, his long, dark hair plastered to his head, clothes sticking to his frame, glinting like glass in the dim light… frozen solid. Her heart seized in her throat when she saw the blue-tinged pallor of his skin beneath the usual blood and grime. She moved out of the way as she heard the click of Herschel's crutches come up behind her.

"What happened?" the vet asked, shock and concern evident in his voice.

"He fell," T answered, moving swiftly past Carol to grab an armful of extra blankets from the ever present pile near the stairs.

"Fell? Where? How?" she found herself asking as T came back and moved to lay the blankets over Daryl.

"Wait," Rick said before T could cover the other man. "We've got to get his clothes off or those won't do him any good." He turned to Carol, looking at her and Herschel in turn. "That pond about a mile from here; he took down a buck and the damn thing ran onto the ice and died. Stubborn ass thought he'd just walk out there and drag it back."

Carol's hand flew to her mouth. "He fell through the _ice_?"

Rick nodded and started working on Daryl's boots. "We managed to dry him off a bit, but he's still soaked through. Gotta get these frozen clothes off so we can warm him up."

"Beth! Maggie!" Herschel called to the others who were now standing close by. "Boil some water! As much as you can! Quickly! Carl! Get the kerosene heaters in here now! And one of you find a wool cap... I know we have some."

Carol vaguely registered the girls running off in the direction of the kitchen, Carl hot on their heels.

In the interim, Rick and T managed to get Daryl undressed and covered in the pile of blankets. Rick was sitting next to him on the bunk, vigorously rubbing his friend's arm through the thick layer of comforters. Silence stretched for several long moments.

Soon, they heard the scrape of metal on stone as Carl dragged one of the old kerosene heaters to the entrance of the cell. T took it from him and pulled it as close to the bunk as safely possible, pulling a lighter from his pocket. The pilot light caught, and he turned the heater to full capacity and stepped back. The heater would soon take the edge from the biting cold, and the warm cap that Carl had pulled over Daryl's wet head would help conserve his own heat as well.

They waited, and although the little heater was doing it's best, Daryl had soon started to shiver violently. "This isn't working," Rick said, shaking his head as he looked at his friend shaking beneath the covers. "He needs to get warm, and _now_ …" The sheriff started to remove his boots.

"What're you doin'?" Carol asked, stepping into the cell for the first time, her brow furrowed in concern.

Rick looked uncomfortable as he met her eyes. "He needs… _body heat_ … or he'll get hypothermia and go into shock. He'll die unless one of us helps him warm up."

The full realization of just how serious the situation was hit her full on as Rick started working on his shirt. When he pulled it from his shoulders, fully preparing to climb into the bunk with Daryl and keep the trembling man warm, Carol acted on instinct. She placed a hand on Rick's shoulder. "I'll do it," she said softly.

Rick paused, an undefinable look sweeping over his features before he shook his head. "Carol… there's no reason for you to—"

She cut him off. "I know... but…" She just shook her head and gave him a tight smile. Looking down at the trembling man in the bunk, Carol hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward and pulling off her large outer sweater.

"Carol…" Rick protested again, a hint of desperation in his voice.

She held up her hand. "Please, Rick…" she said, voice trembling, "let me do this. I… " Her voice stalled, thick with tears, but the thought continued in her head.

_I can't do this without him..._

Rick exchanged a look with T and Herschel, and only when the latter nodded did the sheriff finally consent.

"Alright," he sighed. "We'll give you a minute to get… situated."

Carol nodded and watched as the three men moved just outside and turned their backs. She quickly stripped down to her underwear and pulled the covers back, carefully sliding as close to Daryl as she could get.

She hissed as her warm skin pressed against his; he was cold as ice…

She situated herself so that his head was tucked beneath her chin, her middle pressed to his chest, and her arms around his shoulders. Immediately, she started rubbing at the cold, slightly damp skin of his back. She could feel him shaking, his breath coming out in ragged tremors as his body fought desperately to keep itself alive.

"Okay," she called to the men waiting outside, indicating that she was ready for whatever else they needed to do. She heard them move back into the cell, and heard Herschel speak softly to Rick.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Beth's got the hot water bottles here, Carol. I need you to put one beneath his left arm, near his heart, and the other between his thighs, over the femoral arteries. Can you do that?"

Carol turned her head to see the vet standing there with three cloth-wrapped bundles. She didn't hesitate as she held out a hand. "Lift his arm," she said, and slipped the warm bundle beneath his bicep as Rick did as she asked.

"Leg," she said next, and managed to slip the other bag between his thighs as the others assisted. The fact that Daryl was completely naked never even crossed her mind as she readjusted the blankets and started rubbing his back again.

"What now?" Rick asked after placing the third hot water bottle over Daryl's feet.

"We wait," Herschel answered grimly.

Carol closed her eyes and pressed her lips against Daryl's forehead, not caring if the others saw. "You can't leave yet, ya hear me?" she whispered softly. "Not yet… not now."

He didn't respond, but when his head moved slightly beneath hers, unconsciously burrowing itself deeper into her embrace, she tightened her arms around him, letting him know that it was alright… that she was there, and she wasn't going to let him go without a fight.

And so they waited

It took a bit more kerosene, and several refilled hot-water bottles, but Daryl's shivering gradually slowed. His body went from tense and trembling to lax and motionless within the span of about an hour. Carol would have been alarmed had she not been able to feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her stomach, his warm breath strong and steady against the skin of her throat.

When she motioned for Herschel to come over, and the vet gave the all clear – for the moment – she nearly cried with relief. Herschel moved away – promising to return in a few hours – leaving Carol to keep the still unconscious man warm now even though the greatest danger had passed.

With everyone gone, her brisk strokes soon turned to gentle caresses. "It's alright," she said softly into his hair. "You're gonna be alright. Just don't be angry with me, okay? I had to. I couldn't let you go… not yet. Not when…"

She trailed off again, terrified of revealing what she had only just come to realize... what the day's events had forced her to admit to herself. But no… she would leave that for another day. A day when she was more rational, less terrified of losing him.

"'sides," she chuckled, attempting to bring some levity to the situation, "it was either me or Rick. You should be grateful…"

He shifted slightly as she continued to stroke his back and arms, now warmed from the body heat she had so selflessly shared with him, and it wasn't long before the gentle swell of his breathing lulled her peacefully to sleep.

~*~*~**~*~*~

When she awoke, it was to the sound of Herschel's crutches exiting the cell again. He'd obviously been by to check on Daryl and hadn't bothered to wake her, despite the fact that she was – _Oh my…_ \- wrapped around the man like lights on a Christmas tree, and vice versa. She shifted beneath the blankets, trying to disentangle herself a bit, and was startled when his arm tightened around her waist.

"Leavin'?" he rasped. His voice was muffled from where he was still burrowed into her neck.

She froze, swallowing heavily. It was one thing to be near-naked in a bed with a near-frozen, unconscious naked man when you were trying to save his life, but it was another thing entirely to be near-naked in a bed with a very warm, very awake naked man. So she said the first thing that popped into her head. "You kickin' me out?"

She felt him huff against the skin of her neck. Goosebumps ran a lightning path down her arms as his lips – however unintentionally – brushed her carotid. "Nah… 's warmer like this."

"Mmm…" she said casually, unsure of how to direct the conversation. Fortunately, she didn't have to. Daryl beat her to it.

"'M not angry."

Carol's mouth fell open; had he heard everything she said earlier? Would he wonder…?

"What'd you mean, 'not when'?"

_Shit…_

"Not when what?" he continued. His hand slid slowly up her ribcage, and he pulled back to look at her. His eyes had dark shadows beneath them, and she could tell he was exhausted, but they also held a question… one that demanded an answer.

She held his gaze, blue eyes locked with gray, and knew that she would have to tell him. He never asked for anything, and now that he had, who was she to deny him, especially after he had almost died. Gathering all the courage she possessed, Carol willed the words to come, willed herself to say them, to tell him that she'd fallen… hard… and there was no coming back.

But the words were frozen in her mind… they simply wouldn't form on her tongue, so she did the only other thing she knew how; she kissed him.

She could tell he was shocked at first, and he even pulled back slightly, but after a moment his mouth softened beneath hers. It didn't last long, perhaps ten seconds at most, but when they pulled apart and found each other's eyes again, all he could say was, "Yeah?"

Carol smiled. "Yeah," she nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

His own hand brushed her cheek, and he pulled her close. This time it was her head that tucked itself beneath his chin. And the last thing she heard was his raspy voice whisper, "'Bout time," just before they both fell back into a blissful slumber.

~ FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any related characters. They belong to their respective owners. The song "We Might Fall" is property of musician Ryan Star.


End file.
